


White Halos and Red Glints

by MourningTree



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: But there's an insight to characters, First Time, Grimm is intersex, Grimm just doesn't want to shut up, Kinda, M/M, Muzzled, None of them are as heartless as you think, Plot What Plot, Powerplay, Rough Sex, The night is a realm of its own, There are other surprises too, Who knows what will happen next, blowjob, i don't know why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MourningTree/pseuds/MourningTree
Summary: The King had a long day. Then Grimm made a generous offer which was hard to deny. But he did. Then after nightfall, when the palace was deep in slumber that tempting offer came again, and the King could no longer refuse the mischevious glint in those scarlet eyes.
Relationships: Grimm/The Pale King (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	White Halos and Red Glints

The situation wasn’t completely new, but new enough to surprise them with unknown secrets every time. It had been a long and exhausting day, both for the Pale King and Grimm. Then Grimm made an offer the King could hardly refuse; but he did. The offer came again after nightfall and his curiosity got the better out of him. He knew he could trust Grimm, even if the bug was known for flirting with everything and everyone if he had the chance to. He guessed Grimm would be an interesting specimen to enjoy, and by the gods he was right. Grimm carried an air of kind narcissism and self-assurance the King had never thought could even exist. 

  
They had already gone a round in each other’s laps and Grimm escaped to the bathroom with a mischievous grin on his flushed face. 

  
His retreat to the bathroom stretched longer than expected, this way leaving the Pale King some time to think through what has just happened between them with a mind clear from the fog of lust and desire. And that was the problem: though his body had eased itself a little, his mind was still filled with lust and he soon found himself chasing fantasies that were not fit for a king. He was sick of what was fit and unfit for a king. He was the ruler of Hallownest and thus he had every right and more to deem what was appropriate and what wasn’t. He growled, looking at the sticky mess on the sheets. He will not have himself dirtied with such things. He had started to pick up the habit of having two sheets about a month ago after a rather... interesting encounter. And while he was at it, in body, but definitely not in mind, he slowly opened the lowest drawer on his nightstand, hoping the treasure that was an adventure of its own to lay his hands on was still in there. He cracked a satisfied smile upon seeing that his muzzle was still there, waiting to be put to use. It was simple, a red ball just about Grimm’s size, with two straps, but it was oh so sweet. 

  
He quickly checked himself in the mirror, pride huffing his chest, then heard the bathroom door creak. He moved behind the door, awaiting his prey that he knew wanted to be devoured. Grimm stepped out, clean and shiny, and there was a moment of deadly silence before the King would get him from behind and force the red ball into Grimm’s mouth with a defying speed. And though Grimm clawed at his mouth and the foreign object out of instinct, it practically made no difference. 

  
The King’s sudden pounce from behind has no deny made Grimm’s heart skip a beat, but again he couldn’t say it didn’t make excitement tinting his cheeks even redder. No, this was the sort of thing that always got the adrenaline pumping and the mind running wild with imaginations. 

  
While the Pale King took him by the hand and led him to the bed now equipped with fresh sheets Grimm just had the needed time to get used to the one thing that could make him shut up. Thankfully it didn’t yet make breathing a challenge; he knew that would only come later. 

  
Grimm lay on his back with the King straddling him. The King took long moments to adore the sight beneath him. It was not everyday someone as special the Master of the Grimm Troupe was laying beneath him, watching with round eyes glimmering red with lust and curiosity, awaiting impatiently what course the night would take. 

  
“Do you hear this?” The Pale King asked quietly. “It’s the sound of silence. How perfect.”

  
To Grimm it was many things, but not silence. The room was dim, wrapping everything in soft shadows. The air was tense, dangerous and frighteningly addictive, and the scent of incense burners and sweat was so strong they could cut it. He was just about to give a sarcastic remark on perfection and silence barely sticking together when he realised with disappointment he couldn’t. Okay, this may prove to be more challenging than he first thought.

  
The King spoke again. “I don’t often to do this,” he was lying and Grimm knew it, “so I expect you to return the favour.” He dragged a sharp claw over Grimm’s shell with tantalizing slowness, enjoying how Grimm tried to press into the touch without him noticing. He obviously failed. “Understood?” An eager nod was enough of an answer. “Then I want you,” he intertwined their fingers and led them towards the headboard, “to hold onto this and let me do what I think needs to be done.” His words brought back a scrap of the authority he exhibited during the day, not leaving place for Grimm to doubt or express his objection, though he doubted he had any. Grimm’s fingers curled around the fine metal rods of the headboard. “Or else who knows...” his voice trailed off in a mischievous way. “I might have to punish you, and why would any of us want that?” He was starting to get bored of the one-sided conversation. His glance lingered on Grimm a moment longer, giving him the last chance to protest, which he did not. No, Grimm just wanted him to start whatever dirtiness he wanted as soon as possible. 

  
The King started with something simple and familiar. Leaning close to Grimm’s neck his breath gave the situation even more metaphorical and literal hotness. Then he licked his neck, satisfaction making him smile upon seeing Grimm’s shocked reaction. This was not what he has expected. So far the King was being too gentle, and Grimm was uncertain with how much that had to do with teasing. But the pace was changed quickly, as the licks morphed into hard kisses, and then a dragging of teeth. Grimm was flattered, to say the least, but he had long decided he’d be hard to conquer. The King had to try harder if he wanted to hear Grimm’s sweet moans that fell like a melody out of his mouth and onto the mattress. And so he did. The kisses kept persistently arriving onto Grimm’s throat and jaw, but now accompanied by a maddeningly slow brush of claws travelling down his body. His back arched slightly, focused on the sensation and special kind of attention that he was honoured with, but he was still as quiet as the dead.   
Then following in the path of his hand the King’s kisses abandoned Grimm’s now proudly bite covered neck, and made stops along his collarbone, and abdomen. Grimm’s fingers fidgeted with the fine rods he was afraid he’d break with all his supressed desperation. The heaving of his chest quickened, and as the bliss came from more and more sensitive parts being touched. His legs bent and trembled. And yet he wouldn’t have made a sound for a fortune. He could almost see the Pale King’s annoyed expression in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t help, but grin. 

  
That grin, that wicked grin of Grimm’s caught the King’s eyes just when he was starting to grow irritated with the lack of reaction he was anticipating. Why did Grimm act different this time?, the question kept zapping in the King’s mind, barely able to find enough space among the sea of lustful fantasies. And that mocking grin was enough of a reason for him to change his game in an instant. 

  
He towered above Grimm, faces inches apart, one hand gently placed on his throat, the other digging into hips hard enough to make Grimm let out a hiss. 

  
“If you don’t want this,” he said in a hard tone, eyes narrowed, “that’s fine by me. It’s not my duty to please a slut like you.” His hand started to creep towards Grimm’s groin, temptingly close to his already hard cock. “But if you do want it... Then I expect you to be grateful for all the time I’m wasting on you,” he whispered and stared right into Grimm’s eyes, curious who could hold the other’s gaze longer.

  
_It’s not wasted time, I can assure you, your majesty,_ Grimm wanted to say, but a pitiful mumble was all he could manage. 

  
The King smiled as he heard him struggle and gave a hard squeeze to his cock, finally deriving a whimper from the stubborn slut; without ever breaking eye contact. A few more strokes made Grimm glance away with what could be a mix of lust, eagerness and an odd sense of vulnerability. Even if the King was smaller than him, being spread out like this made him feel little; and the feeling momentarily confused him. The only thing that could stir him up from thoughts such as this was the shocking realisation that the Pale King had planned on going down on him. Grimm’s eyes widened and his jaw would’ve dropped when he saw that the plan has already started to unfold. It made even more blood rush into his cock and cheeks, and the very cognition of what was about to happen made him lightheaded, but not in the same way as opiates or alcohol. It was much, much better. He wanted to tilt back his head, giving in to the sensation, but he knew he’d enjoy watching the show much more, knowing doing this would be the King’s first time. And he wanted to relish every second of his struggles. Maybe his intense gaze would even make the King nervous? Maybe he’d fidget, not knowing what to put where, frustration, sexual or otherwise, would start bubbling inside him; and in the end he’d turn out to be an absolute mess. Oh, that would be such a wonderful sight. And again, Grimm couldn’t help, but smirk.

  
The Pale King had the intelligence to guess that Grimm was more collected than him, and that he was also loving it. He smiled to himself, imagining the expressions Grimm would make once his plan was executed. Of course, there were two routes, and this time it depended solely on Grimm which one he’d go, or better said fall, down on. None of them were gentle, but the difference could have been easily called a canyon.

  
He started slow, but not uncertain. He might have been new, but he was not stupid. At last, much to Grimm’s relief, his face followed where his hands have already discovered most of Grimm. He decided he’d pay most of his attention to Grimm’s cock. With one of his hands he pressed on his hip, though for his surprise and amazement Grimm was holding still, with eyes fixed on the King. _So be it,_ the Pale King thought, _if you want to know if I can hold your stare._

  
His face was now so close to his member Grimm could feel his breath on it; and it sent shivers down his carapace. The King smiled. Grimm could play it cool and with a dash of arrogance like he always did, but he couldn’t hide the response of his body and base instincts. He was hard and wet with a scent that sparked up something deep down in the King’s mind. He gave the tiniest of licks to his twitching cock, loving as Grimm’s whimpers were muffled by that beautiful muzzle of his. Then he gave another, and another, each one more slippery and longer. 

  
Grimm felt a moan building up in his chest. He wanted to let go off that damned headboard and get hold of that beautiful crown that in the dimness glowed like some sort of a unique halo. But he fought with the urge, his curiosity for what the King’s next step would be proving to be stronger than his desires. The question was how long he’d be able to hold back. 

  
The King added a hand, his light touches driving Grimm wild. The situation left the King feeling what he didn’t often had the chance to. He knew far too well what being on the receiving end was like. Maybe that’s why the unexpected idea surfaced in him when he was sitting on the bed, waiting. He wouldn’t have said he was getting bored of the control over the many whores, having them twist and twirl exactly as they were told to, but... But maybe he had to admit his need for change, and it seemed like having Grimm himself wasn’t quite enough. And by heavens, going down on Grimm was just what he needed. Though he had to get used to the sense of submission that no matter how hard he wished to banish kept tugging at the back of his mind. Maybe that’s why his subconscious wanted Grimm to be muzzled and spread out. It gave him the illusion of possessing control. The illusion was good enough. 

  
Finally Grimm’s legs started to shake, wanting to press on the King’s head and get well out of the way at the same time. Sometimes the licks started at his cunt and ended at the tip of his cock, and those times he let out a whimper spiked with lust and excitement. His senses started to become overwhelmed: the constant staring into the void black eyes, the sight and feeling as the King kept pleasuring him, the scent of sweat and other bodily fluids, the noise of his own moans and wet licking, and all that topped with a feeling that was bordering euphoria. It drove him wild, and he started leaking pre-cum, mutely praying that the King would soon quicken his pace. Grimm was afraid he wasn’t the type to be blessed with the virtue of patience. Then realised it wasn’t him, but the King who should have been afraid. May the gods help those who wore Grimm’s patience thin.

  
Love was a weak word to express what the King was feeling. Though upon thinking, which has become harder as he too wanted to be pleasured, he realised it wasn’t really what he was doing. It was Grimm’s reaction to it. The King watched with pure fascination as Grimm’s every muscle tensed when he squeezed the base of his cock, only to go completely limp as he gave in to the sensation of the soft fingers slowly dragging over his member; and when the touch reached his tip, sometimes flicking over it, he again tensed, muscles contracting instinctively. His black carapace shone in the dim light with a blackness that was so much, yet nothing like void. His eyes glowed with the vivid redness of a bloody rose, and his gaze was like its thorns, piercing through the King without mercy. His chest was rising and falling at an unsteady pace. Grimm’s back arched as he pushed into the King’s touch with such eagerness that he had to hold his hips with a steady hand. Grimm’s heart kept hammering against his ribcage, pumping even more blood into his blushed cheeks and hard cock. One of his hands was already clawing at the sheets as he kept fighting down the urge to just grab the King’s head as shove his dick into his mouth. 

  
The King knew, the signs were far too obvious, that the licks and squeezes would satisfy Grimm so long. But he hated to admit that a sense of unease housed itself in his guts. He wanted to do it, to take in all he could and more, but at the same time the snob part of his mind was screaming at him not to. He was the King of Hallownest, he had dignity and duties and a Kingdom to protect. How could he do all that when he was willing to suck a whore’s dick? He blinked, trying to argue with his own thoughts. The night have always been a realm of its own; so much that it might have been a dream. He looked up at Grimm, movements never pausing. His arrogance has long vapoured away and now his scarlet eyes sparkled not just with lust, but a much deeper level of want, of wanting to truly have him. He might as well have been begging; his whimpers certainly sounded like that. 

  
Once the King had decided something it was sure to happen. Grimm watched with wide eyes as the King’s mouth wrapped around his aching cock, bringing him closer to the euphoria he craved more than anything. 

  
It was startling at first, but not a bad feeling as the arrogant part of the King had expected. Though Grimm wasn’t huge, the King’s smaller form could never dream of fully taking him in, so what his mouth couldn’t his hands certainly did. He explored Grimm with his tongue, who started bucking his hips and enjoyed it with a tipped back head. He ran his tongue over his member, only pulling back when he was certain he didn’t leave a spot untouched. He looked up at Grimm, an unexpected smile playing at his lips. Grimm’s one hand was clawing at the sheets so hard he teared a pillow open; his other one rested on his sweating forehead, trying to soothe the fire which burned him from the inside. Then the Pale King continued, switching with perfect timing between the sucking, licking and touching. He always thought giving such a thing would be impossible to feel good, the task being usually delivered by sluts for a pitiful amount of geo, but he was wrong. It was just as good to not just see, but feel as Grimm was pushing into every touch, and sense that the pleasure was building up inside him. He wouldn’t yet give him that relief. He was still very much in control and he was sure to let Grimm know that. He gave a squeeze to his cock, a bit harder than usual, deriving a lovely whine, and drew back while sucking and tonguing Grimm. Then he paused and looked at him expectantly.

  
Grimm tried to move, but learned the hard way it wasn’t a great option when the King’s claws sank into his hips and a single drop of vivid red blood sprang forth. He licked it up, tongue playing at his wound for a moment before he paused yet again. Time seemed to freeze. It was a deadly stare between the two, an odd game for control. Had Grimm not been muzzled he would have stressed out the King with his cocky remarks already. And the King knew that, hence the muzzle. So now the entire chamber plummeted into silence, the only sound being the ever faint breathing of Grimm. The Pale King wanted the room to fill with Grimm’s whimpers and moans. And he wouldn’t give him the release until his wish was granted. Until his fantasy became reality. 

  
Grimm held on to what tiny speck of dignity he had left. 

  
“The fire inside you,” the King spoke in a silken voice laced with lust. “the scarlet flames are devouring you from the inside, I can tell. I can help you, I can grant you your wish. But I need you to want it,” he raised his voice and gave a squeeze to his cock. “More.”

  
Grimm fidgeted with the teared remnants of the pillow, hazy mind processing. By the gods how much he was tormented. How much he loved it. 

  
At last whimpers started to fall from his mouth, and though it was sweet melody the King wanted more. There was a mumble of pleases paired with a pair of pleading eyes. That earned him a long touch from his cunt to his tip. Both of theirs patience was wearing thin. Grimm had one trick up his sleeve though, one that he hoped would work. It was again a mumble of ‘please’ followed by ‘have mercy on me, your Majesty.'

  
Upon seeing the King’s eyes widening at least double their size he grinned. The King didn’t need much else to hear. He only gave a few rough licks before taking in as much as he could, setting a pace that drove Grimm wild. He was close, he was already dripping. That promise of bliss kept tantalizingly hovering in front of him, just out of reach. He was puzzled on how the King knew exactly that burning feeling within him, but now wasn’t the time to ponder on such things. He was afraid he’d loose his sanity if he didn’t get to cum in the next moment. Too slow. With a cry of desire he grabbed the King’s head and shoved his full length into his mouth, giving a blissful whimper when he felt his cock hit the back of his throat. He heard the King gag, but he didn’t care. He came hard with a strangled cry and an arched back, barely in control of his body. Only after riding out his afterglow did he let go of the King. 

  
Grimm snapped out of the sweet lingering remnants of his euphoria in an instant. The Pale King glared at him with a mad glint deep within his black eyes. He didn’t like to be disrespected.

  
“Then taste it, slut,” he hissed with anger as he ripped off the muzzle, grabbed Grimm by the jaw, and pulled him into an aggressive kiss. There was a fight for dominance before the King’s fury and well aimed pressure on Grimm’s groin forced the disrespectful bug to succumb to his will. And so Grimm did, exploring and letting to be explored. He found a special kind of thrill in tasting his own seed. He cracked a satisfied smile. 

  
The King pulled back, and leaned close to Grimm’s neck. He had to regain the air which Grimm’s previous ‘trick’ denied from him. He was not prepared for this, not in any way, and though it was far from bad, Grimm didn’t act as he was told. No one could disrespect the King and escape from the consequences.

  
He whispered with a deadly venom dripping from his words. “No one can disrespect me such as you did,” he paused and when he saw Grimm opening his mouth for a word put a firm hand on his throat. “I’m going to fuck every hole you have.” 

  
The sparks of excitement which were already floating in the heavy air were now spiced with a hint of fright. Grimm should have disrespected the King more often. He smiled. 

  
“Lucky you have two of those white spears.” He smiled at his talent in creating gorgeously horrible metaphors. “I can’t wait to have the Pale King’s vicious fury leashed upon me,” he did an overplayed grimace of a damsel. “But I hope he’ll have mercy on my poor soul,” he leaned back and sighed dramatically, the playfulness ever alive in his eyes. 

  
The King suppressed a smile. Of course, Grimm was an entertainer, – in many fields – but now the main role was reserved for the King. “Shut it before I put that muzzle back on you.” Though his words were harsh, he caressed Grimm’s cheeks. It was an odd moment. But something snapped him out of that and he realised he should keep his promise. Or threat. 

  
“Or what?” Grimm’s sharp voice sounded like a child testing the boundaries. Maybe he was. 

  
“Why do you always have to challenge the ones being above you?”

  
“Literally or figuratively above?”

  
The King’s sigh had the undertone of a hunter’s final breath before pouncing onto its prey. “If you keep doing this I’ll have your vocal cords cut out.” He leaned close to Grimm’s face, noses nearly touching, breaths mingling. “Shut. Your. Mouth.”

  
The King narrowed his eyes in annoyance and the frustration of his horniness not yet being taken care of. Grimm’s eyes narrowed in delight and with a mocking expression. He knew what the King wanted.

  
“No,” he cooed. “Unless you make me.”

  
His tired sigh was more like a grunt, as the King pushed the eager Grimm beneath him more, now properly straddling him. They could have kept playing this game. He could have threatened him more and more, and Grimm would have been glad to put on a performance. The King’s need for pleasure was starting to become overwhelming.

  
“Kiss me,” the King said.

  
“What?” The smile slipped off Grimm’s face, leaving place for surprise. 

  
“Do as I say. Kiss me.” Oh, how he loved to catch bugs off-guard. 

  
“Where?”

  
And now it was Grimm who caught him off-guard; a rare moment. He thought for a second. “Anywhere you want."

  
Grimm quickly grabbed and pulled the King into a long and passionate kiss, not as rough as their previous one. Still, by his nature, the King was fast to end up in control. He was already starting to position himself. He had played the games he wanted, and now he had Grimm just where he was the best sight. It was thrilling to see him twist and moan at his every touch, but again, he needed change. He ran a hand over Grimm’s wet cunt, who jerked into the touch, then paused, as if in realisation. He had promised to fuck every hole Grimm has. His next touch started from Grimm’s most tenderest flesh.

  
Grimm pulled back from the kiss, a smug smile on his face. “Keeping onto promises, huh?”

  
“I’m a man of my word.”

  
That was among the few things Grimm liked about the Pale King. At least _he_ was true to his word. He leaned back with a content smile, awaiting the King’s next move. 

  
And while the King was getting Grimm ready an idea surfaced in his hungry mind. He continued rubbing him, but now with black eyes focused on the scarlet ones. 

  
“Now that muzzle is off of you,” he leaned close, breath fanning on Grimm’s glinting carapace. “I need you to say how much you want me.”

  
“I need you like a bee its pollen,” Grimm panted. “I need you like dry soil yearns for cool rain. I need you like a shade in the desert. I need you like a lost wanderer needs guidance. I need you like a troubled mind seeks a peaceful night. I need you like a hand to hold in the freezing cold.” His fiery gaze burned into the King’s core in a way he could swear Grimm just peered into his very soul. “I need you. So fill me in.” 

  
There was a moment of pure silence. The King knew Grimm was a performer of the more educated kind, but he heard what he said, and he felt that Grimm truly meant it. So he’d do just as Grimm asked.

  
It wasn’t hard to get into the right position with Grimm spreading his legs as much as he could. His white cocks were a striking contrast against Grimm’s red and black shell. He gave a final kiss to him, then slowly slid one cock into Grimm’s slippery cunt and one into his ass. What a lovely sight was it to see him tense up again only to melt and drip onto the sheets like ink. But this time it wasn’t just Grimm with this kind of reaction. The King welcomed the familiar, yet always different feeling with a long sigh and gradually worked himself deep into him. They closed their eyes. Pure bliss. 

  
The King pulled out all the way, loving the speck of fright on Grimm’s cheeks. No, he wouldn’t leave him now. He slammed back in and a proper moan rolled off Grimm’s tongue. The sensation from before, but now doubled. Oh, how lucky they were. A pull and push again. He was frantically clawing at the sheets he could only hope wouldn’t tear... more. 

  
The King could hear his own blood pulsing in his ears and that paired with Grimm’s rhythmic moans created a melody that engulfed and bound him like a spell. He watched Grimm’s wandering gaze occasionally glance at him only to close his eyes again. Maybe it was a spell. He wouldn’t have cared about that either. Now all he wanted was to come hard, right into Grimm. It was a rare time when a ruler who was responsible for a kingdom would want the same as a traveller crazy about dancing; as Grimm wanted exactly what the Pale King. 

  
Grimm’s slutty and slightly hoarse moans were paired and soon mingled together with a finer, breathier one. The King felt as if he was losing his balance and leant onto Grimm’s chest, who was happy to hold his hips and set a steadier pace. They were so close to that promise of relief they could taste it in the heavy sweat-filled air. The King blinked, as if waking from a dream and that domineering shine was back in his eyes again. His thrust may have become slower, but reached far deeper in Grimm; a compromise he was willing to make. 

  
Grimm’s ever mysterious gaze was wandering far too often, and the King guessed too far. Had he not been giving in to the pleasure he might had felt a speck of jealousy. His claws dragged along Grimm’s jawline and steered his gaze back into the present and right onto the King’s glowing white form. He needed Grimm to truly see him. He slipped a finger into Grimm’s mouth, hoping that would make him realise who’s fucking the life out of him. He took his finger eagerly, sucking it. He soon took in a second one, cherishing the King’s surprised expression. 

  
Grimm’s shining body began to twist, back arching, legs trembling, and he looked at the King through a pair of glassy eyes fogged by his desires. A sharp cry and his pink cum landed on his scarlet abdomen. He went instantly limp, or would have gone if the King didn’t keep on continuing. He really did try to follow the King’s pace, but he soon gave up and let himself to drift with the current. When the King saw Grimm’s cum, its taste still lingering in his mouth, something has sparked up in him. The feeling of something primal. His claws dragged along Grimm’s carapace as his grunts grew louder. He looked right into Grimm’s eyes when his white seed filled both of his holes. It was perfect; more than perfect. 

  
Grimm felt the sticky liquid fill him with a satisfied and slightly dazed smile. That smile faltered when the King’s face came close to his. Grimm thought he wanted to kiss, and so he lifted his head only to be firmly pushed back onto the pillows. His smile faltered.

  
“You thought that would be it, didn’t you?” The King failed to squeeze as much of his notorious fury into his voice as he intended. “You disobeyed your King.” Grimm put on a questioning face. “Do you want me to list it?” The King hissed as he started rocking his hips back and forth again.

  
“Yes, please,” came Grimm’s ever so courageous voice. Maybe he was being stupid, maybe brave. The line between the two is so vague, who could tell where one began and the other ended?

  
The King paused, surprised. He shouldn’t have been taken aback by Grimm’s boldness, but he always managed to surprise him. That was no reason for him to loose grasp on his authority. “You weren’t willing to shut up, even after numerous commands, you didn’t hold onto the bars and you showed my head down your cock!” He surprised both of them with his choice of words unfit for a ruler. He lowered hiss voice to a dreadful hiss. “And now I’m going to keep fucking you until you’ll be begging for mercy.”

  
Grimm fell silent and averted his eyes. He was never the one to admit defeat, it just wasn’t in his nature, it just didn’t fit his character of puppet-master. But he knew by both looking at him and feeling his thrust that the King would last an eternity fucking him, leaving no place untouched; and that he’d love it. 

  
The King’s thrust were fast and hard. It wasn’t long before Grimm and him came in perfect sync. The idea of changing positions dawned in the King, but this was the best way to reach the farthest into Grimm and see his messy expression of bliss and pain. 

  
Faint whimpers slipped past Grimm’s lips. He was barely in control of his aching body and he felt the cum leaking out of him and onto the mattress. Not many were able to get him into such an odd state, even more peculiar than the one of nightmares. It hurt, but in the best way possible, and he loved every moment of it. But his body had its restraints and so much was what he could bear. This time a pleading tone was woven into his whimper. The King acted as if he didn’t hear it. He was close again. 

  
“Please.” It took an effort to say a coherent word.

  
“Please what?” The King panted between thrusts, a sheen of sweat glistening in the candlelight. 

  
“You.. know what.” He was foolish to think the King would be satisfied with that. No, he just kept on thrusting, not letting anything stop him.

  
Grimm’s moans, grunts and whimpers mingled together into a beautiful chaos of pleasure and stimulation. The King held his face in his white claws and kissed him deeply. When they broke away for a breath of air Grimm tried to string together a coherent sentence. “Please... please I’m begging.” The King was oh so close he could barely register those sounds. “I’m begging for mercy your Majesty!” Grimm cried out as the King came inside him. He rode out his afterglow and only then was willing to pay attention to the black and scarlet mess beneath him. 

  
He looked into his dazed eyes. He found the fast rise and fall of his chest somewhat soothing. Grimm’s cheeks were red, but that ever burning fire of his had been tamed and put at rest. 

  
“Then you shall have it,” he said and pulled out of Grimm’s two holes with a grunt and collapsed onto the bed beside Grimm who seemed unable to move or react to anything. Yes, it would be a challenge to properly walk tomorrow. 

  
They lay there in silence, and soon lost track of time. Not that any of them cared. The only sound was the steadying breaths of Grimm accompanied by the everlasting rain in the city. It was nice. Calm. Stripped from that constant buzz and barking officers. The King sighed. As they lay there he didn’t even notice that the matters of his duty and protecting Hallownest didn’t weigh down on his shoulders. It was a relief he forgot even existed.

  
He turned his head, eyes intently watching Grimm’s alluring form. His eyes were half-lidded and he could tell his mind was somewhere else completely, probably wandering through beautiful lands with freedom. His eyes started to close, visible exhaustion taking over him. The King looked at him with worry. He hoped he didn’t overshot. 

  
Then Grimm’s eyes shot open as if startled by something. He sat up, every inch of his body aching, though it was definitely worth it. 

  
He rubbed his forehead, then mumbled: “I should probably go now. You wouldn’t want to have to explain...” His voice trailed off in a way that left the King feel even more concern. He usually didn’t care about the bugs in the palace, let alone a troupe master from some far-away land. But in his core there was a feeling that wouldn’t let him rest and kept clinging onto him like a leech: Grimm may be more than a simple wanderer.

  
Grimm tried to stand only to miserably fall back onto the bed.

  
The King got up without a word, draped a light robe over his shoulders and stared out the vast window down the ever-drowning city at his feet. His city.

  
“But look,” he said in a calm silken voice. “It’s pouring outside. How could I let you go home like this? Alone, in the cold.” He looked at Grimm who kept peering at him from the corner of his eye. “Stay.”

  
Grimm struggled to find his voice. He was flattered to say the least. He didn’t dive into the strange realm of nightfall thinking it would end like this. It’s been so long since someone has treated him with kindness and at the same time control. He loved it. And he found it dangerously addictive. 

  
His gaze fell on the vast bedroom door with the crest of Hallownest intricately carved in it. He doubted he had the strength to properly walk or teleport. He looked at the pillows. They were soft and nearly as white and tempting as the King himself. He cracked a smile and nestled himself among the many pillows and blankets. 

  
“Thank you,” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

  
The King didn’t remember when was the last time he genuinely smiled. Grimm could always make him do such crazy things. He sighed, watching a raindrop trickle down the glass before slipping back into his bed.

“Thank you.” 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Phew, that was a project I loved writing. Funny how I only felt comfortable writing it between 11pm and 1am. So, this is truly a work of the night. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. 
> 
> Fun fact: the working title for this story was 'This is a sin, I'm sorry'
> 
> A HUGE shoutout and thank you for this [illustration](https://kazytka.tumblr.com/post/623274793049980928/i-made-an-illustration-for-a-story-on-archives-of)   
> by [ReginaOfTerror](https://kazytka.tumblr.com/) !!! <3


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